#29 War All The Time by Thursday
This is another one of those songs that I discovered on Christopher’s mp3 back in high school. I have vivid memories of being at Tony’s house and coaxing Christopher’s mp3 player away from him so I could listen to this song and others while Tony and Christopher talked about who knows what. That is absolutely all I have to say about this song. You’d think maybe I’d have something to say about the lyrics and the meaning or even war, but nope, I’ve got nothing.
I’m not really in the writing mood for some reason. Or at least a mood for this kind of writing. I feel like I have nothing to say regarding any of the thoughts I may have. It’s scary to feel like this. It makes me think, “What if I really don’t have anything to say? What if I have no good thoughts? What if all I really can do is make half assed masturbation jokes? What if I put half of Kim Kardashian’s ass together with half of Jennifer Lopez’s ass? Would I masturbate to that? What if all I could do was think, but I could never express the thoughts?”
I get little motivations every day. It’s ridiculous regarding the form in which I get them. I was talking to some girl I like today and she was talking about how she wanted to see The Green Lantern because dreamboat Ryan Reynolds is oh so sexy. First of all it made me think less of her because she wants to see a bad more just because some hot guy is in it. Then I thought about all the terrible movies I’ve watched just because some girl I liked was in it (Raise Your Voice starring Hilary Duff). Then I hated Ryan Reynolds forever, even though he’s probably a nice guy, but I hated him anyway because he got to have what must have been the prettiest sex ever with one of my favorite women, Scarlett Johansson. Then I got sad because I realized I would never be as hot as Ryan Reynolds. Crazy to be sad about that, right? Especially considering it’s completely out of my control to the most largest of extents. Sure I can work out to try and get a better body, and believe me come morning I’m going to work extra hard thinking of Ryan Reynolds (masturbation…kidding), but I couldn’t control how short I am, or how large my nose is, or how pointy my elbows are. Oh how I would kill for Ryan Reynolds elbows.
This is my life. I get sad about things out of my control. I imagine I have that in common with a lot of people. It’s a completely ridiculous trait that given the circumstances should be completely controllable. Unfortunately I’m not really sure what the circumstances given really are.
For the past month I’ve been wanting to watch Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. There’s another man I hate for absolutely no good reason. I at least like most of his movies, so it’s not based on that. I even recall being a fan of the Kill Bill movies, and I usually hate movies like that. The problem is that he will always be the best Quentin to have ever lived. Probably not morally, but rather in terms of biggest impact. See the stupid things I get upset over. But I own Reservoir Dogs, yet I’m still too lazy to pop it in the DVD player and sit for an hour and a half enjoying it. Would I enjoy it? I haven’t seen it in like two years. I think I would still enjoy it.
I go to the park to play basketball with myself on some mornings. Recently there has been an old Asian man on the tennis court doing some kind of karate moves with a real sword. I like the world.
By the way, when I went to google looking for a picture of Ryan Reynolds being all sexy-like and my computer froze for a little while and I was stuck looking at about 30 pictures of Ryan Reynolds looking far too good for any man. It was very depressing. This is how my life works. I’ll never forgive you for that, God.